Branded
by Shazza72
Summary: Ser Jorah finds himself back in Danys company one last time.
1. Chapter 1

Jorah Mormont leant against the slimy stone wall of the cell and hung his head. The noise and smell of the dungeon had brought on nightmares of the belly of the slavers ship.

He never thought he would have been brought that low in his life. He'd been beaten, chained to an oar and flogged without mercy. Part of him wished the slavers had killed him when they took their ship. Not that they hadn't given it a good shot.

Jorah had killed at least three of the raiders before they overwhelmed him. Some of the crewmates of the dead men were tying a rope to the yard arm ready to hang him, when their captain put a stop to it. Slaves who could use a sword sold for more coin. The captain may have stopped his men hanging Jorah, but he turned a blind eye to the beating they gave him.

Wore still the memory of being branded was the most vivid. They had dragged him from his oar and up onto deck. Jorah was expecting another beating but they had pinned him to the deck, kneeling on this back. He had now idea what they were going to do, until the captain yanked his head around. It was then he saw the branding iron and started to fight the men holding him down. A fierce kick to the head, then white hot agony and the smell of burning skin and hair. Thankfully unconsciousness came soon after.

The next time he came to his face so swollen he could hardly open his eyes. He went to reach up to touch his battered face but a filthy hand reached out to stop him.

"Best not to touch it." An old man told him.

"Burns." Jorah rasped.

"Aye, it be the brand." The old man told him. "Unruly and dangerous slave are ye? Don't look it!" He laughed. "Don't pick it. It'll heal in time, either that or the rot will get you." He chuckled with a toothless smile.

Jorah laid back and closed his swollen eyelids. Every part of him ached or throbbed with its own rhythm. He welcomed the blackness when it finally came for him again.

When the had wind died off, Jorah was given over to the galley, where the slaves had to row, three men to an oar, for hours at a time. Failure to keep up earned each man on the oar, a lash from galley masters whip. It seemed to take weeks before the ship docked at Mereen. Slavers stayed at sea, pirating and pillaging until their holds were full, then they would return to land to sell their wares. Jorah didn't see Penny or Tyrion during that time. Dwarfs probably weren't much use at rowing and he assumed they were already dead.

When they landed Jorah and the other prisoners were stripped of their remaining clothes and shackled hand and foot. It was while he waited in the cells beneath the fighting pit that Jorah heard word that Danerys had married some Mereenese noble. She had even allowed the fighting pits to be re-opened.

Jorah couldn't understand it. How could a woman so against slavery allow men to be sold to the pits to fight to the death? His addled mind could not come up with an answer that satisfied him. He knew she would never love him as he wanted and her marriage hurt enough. But all he wanted was to serve her again, but any hopes he had of redemption died with the knowledge that he was destined for those same fighting pits.


	2. Chapter 2

Much had happened since the Saleasori Qhoran and taken been taken by the slavers. Tyrion had saved Jorahs life twice. The first time from his death in the fighting pits and when he'd arranged their escape from Yezzan zo Qaggaz. Even though he'd tried to turn him into a dancing bear, Jorah begrudgingly began to like the little Lannister. He could appreciate his wits, if not his sense of humour, but he had shown his worth by convincing the Second Sons to fight for Danerys.

It had taken a long time for Jorah to regain his senses. The beatings at the hands of Nurse and the cage he was kept in had stripped him of his sense of self. Until Tyrion had "rescued" him, he was simply going through the motions and waiting for the Pale Mare to offer him a ride. Tyrion's determination to survive and to make his way to Danerys side had sparked something in Jorah. There was nothing left for him in Mereen, Dany had made that clear, but in his heart he knew the only way to find forgiveness was to do as his father had asked. He would fight to return to Westeros, collect his pardon and then go to the Wall to his father.

Danerys had finally returned with Drogon and the fighting was done. Jorah had planned to slip away but the captains of the Second Sons were rounded up to be presented to her. While they awaited her pleasure they were disarmed and housed in the cells beneath the pyramid. Jorah knew the situation wasn't good. Most of the Second Sons had been in the company when they turned coat and left Danys service previously. Jorah prayed that she would give them a quick death rather than having them crucified.

Finally they were taken from the cells to appear before the Queen. As they began the trek to the throne room two of the unsullied guards pulled Jorah from the ranks. He did not recognise the guards and they did not speak to him. They led him through the endless corridors of the pyramid, one man on each of side of him with a tight grip on his arms, as if they expected him to run. Jorah had hoped was that he'd get one last glimpse of Dany before the axe fell. That didn't seem very likely now. Eventually they stopped and pushed him into a small room and locked the door behind him.

At one end of the room was a bathtub, filled with steaming water and at the other a feather bed, with a set of clean clothes laid upon it. Beside the bed was a pair of leather boots and a small dressing table laden with fruit, cheese, bread and a pitcher of wine and one of water. Someone obviously wanted him to be fed and cleaned. Perhaps he was to be presented to the Queen before he was beheaded and his current state of filth was considered an insult to the ruler of Mereen?

Jorah signed and started to remove his armour. The last time he could remember bathing was before he'd met Tyrion in the alehouse, he did need a bath and badly. He had just removed his tunic when the door opened. A woman entered and guards locked the door behind her.

"Who are you?" Jorah asked.

"My name is Tem, I was sent to prepare you, Ser." She explained, placing the basket she was carrying on the table.

"For what?" Jorah asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I do not know milord, I was only told to prepare you." She looked him up and down and then to the tub.

"I can bathe myself." Jorah told her gruffly. He was quite capable of washing himself.

"I sure you can Ser but I have my instructions." She did not sound like someone who was used to being questioned.

Jorah grunted but finished undressing and gratefully lowered himself into the steaming water. Tem picked up a soft brush and set to work. It took some scrubbing but eventually he was clean enough for Tem's liking. Jorah hoped the hot water and soap would also rid him of the fleas and lice that had been his constant companions since the slavers hulk.

He was about to get out of the tub when Tem pushed him back down. He turned to look back at her only to find Tem holding a razor in her hand.

"Do you mean to cut my throat Tem?" Jorah asked gruffly.

"No my Lord, I was told to see that you were made appropriate." As she reached for the lather, Jorah stopped her.

"Who gave you these orders?" Jorah asked out of curiosity.

"I was told the direction came from one who advises the Queen."

It must have been Barristan, he was the only one that advised Danerys. Jorah stared at her for a moment the shrugged. Why would old Selmy care how he looked? Jorah didn't even care anymore. What did it matter? Pride and dignity where things from his past.

"Ser do you wish me to stop? I am sure that the Queen will be merciful."

A beard was too trivial a thing to imperil another person's life for.

"Do what you have to." He shrugged.

Jorah could not even remember the last time a razor has touched his face, he thought perhaps it was at his mother's insistence when he was still in his teens. Most north men wore beards as a matter of habit. Tem was very careful at least, especially around the brand and the scar on his neck from the arakh.

When Tem was finally happy with him, she bid him well and left.

Jorah stood up collected a towel from the nearby bench. He felt good to be clean, even if his face felt strangely sensitive to the air. His stomach grumbled so crossed to the dressing table to the food laid out for him. As he sat down, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror that sat on the table.

His reflection shocked him. He was leaner, not much meat over the muscle anymore, and no doubt Tem's attentions made it so he almost didn't recognise himself. His hair was shorn very short and without his whiskers, his cheekbones stood out below weary eyes. He slowly turned his face to look at the brand burnt into his left cheek. It was the first time he had actually looked at it. It wasn't red and raised as he'd expected but only thick white lines. His tanned skin made the scars stand out more, but they were not as dominant as he had expected. Still it certainly did not made him any more handsome. And they would forever mark his downfall.

He stroked the scars with a finger, then turned to look at his back and saw the lines criss-crossing from the whip. There were more scars on his shoulders, arms and chest. Free or not, he would forever be scared and branded as a slave. It left a bitter taste in his mouth to think that he had sold other men into that life without understanding what he did. More than anything he regretted that decision more than any other. It had lost him everything. His home, his family, his father's esteem, his freedom and his self respect. He knew had deserved the punishment he was dealt.

Appetite gone, he laid on the bed. Sleep took him quickly.

The lanterns in the room had been lit when Jorah woke from a nightmare. This time, it was of rats eating his fingers and crows pecking out his eyes. He stood and poured water over his head. He reached for the drying cloth draped over the chair and scrubbed his face and hair dry.

He pulled on a pair of trousers and was reaching for the linen shirt when the door opened.

He could smell essence lavender and rose. It was Danerys. He froze. All that time of wishing for one more glimpse of her face and now that she was here, he couldn't face her. His heart pounded in his chest, blood rushing in his ears. He heard her gasp, no doubt at seeing the scars on his back. He wondered if she had been told about the brand on his face.

"I would speak with you Ser. Look at me Jorah." She told him. Jorah exhaled the breath he had been holding. He pulled on the shirt and slowly turned. The sight of her face took his breath away. She was thinner, yes, perhaps her eyes held more maturity but she was still heart-achingly beautiful.

"Khaleesi." He rasped, dropping to his knee in front of her.

He kept his gaze to the floor. He couldn't look into her eyes and see his betrayal shining back at him.

She reached out with both hands to lift his head up, forcing him to look at her. She examined him closely. She did not speak but ran gentle hands over his face, lingering on the brand, lingering his cheekbones and slowly drawing along his now smooth jaw.

"Oh Jorah!" She cried softly.

Pity was written across her features. She looked about to cry.

"Please don't." Jorah dropped his head again. "I received much less than I deserved." He couldn't stand for her to look at him with pity. After all the wrong he had done in his retched life, he deserved no pity, no mercy.

Jorah had realised in the slavers camp, that he'd run from his responsibilities and justice all his adult life and it had taken everything from him. When he'd sworn to serve Danerys he had begun to understand what honour really was. The realisation that he wasn't an honourable man had gutted him. As did his realisation that she could never love him.

"They told me but... My heart breaks to see what they have done to you." Tears ran down her cheeks.

"Do not cry Danerys. I am healed." He tried to reassure her. "They're only scars, I was never much to look at anyway."

"You are too hard on yourself." She told him, running her fingers through is short sandy hair, scratchy lightly at his scalp. "You look different without your beard." She smiled at him.

He smiled in amusement. A tiny flicker of hope sparked in Jorah.

Dany had not realised before that he was handsome. Without the beard he looked younger, his features more dominant and pleasing. His eyes were darker blue than she remembered and his lips looked soft and sweet. He wasn't as flashy or as young as Dario, but he was attractive, manly. Seeing him again stirred things inside of her. Things she tried to deny. To forget.

"My Queen?" Jorah asked. As he did his best not to squirm under her scrutiny.

"Why did you come back?" She asked, her smile fading. "When you knew the consequences of it?" She gripped his hair tightly.

Jorah swallowed hard. "My Queen I am sworn to you I...would die for you."

"And I relieved you of that oath." She snapped at him. "And now you return and force my hand." She let him go and turned away from him.

Jorah hung his head. "I am truly sorry." He whisphered and he meant it will all his being.

He knew then that she hadn't come to forgive him, but to say good-bye. After a long silence he asked, "When will it be?"

"Your... execution?" Dany felt as if a hand constricted around her heart.

Jorah nodded.

"At dawn." She cried and strode from the room, leaving Jorah to weep in the solitude.


	3. Chapter 3

When Dany arrived back at her chambers she found Ser Barristan waiting for her.

"My Queen, are you alright?" He asked, seeing her distressed state.

" I went to see him." She sniffed.

"Mormont?" He wished she hadn't. It would have been better to let Belwas take his head without her having to see him again, dead or alive.

"Why would he come back? Why would he make me do this?" She cried.

"I thought that would be obvious." A voice piped from the nearby table, where its owner was helping himself to Dany's wine.

"Not now Lannister!" Barristan grumped.

"He loves you My Queen, can you not see it? What else would lead a man back to a woman's side knowing he would face the executioner for the privilege?" Tyrion provided.

"Arrogance!" Spat Selmy. He thought Mormont was a good fighter but he was arrogant enough to expect Danerys to pardon him just because he helped the Second Sons turn the battle for them.

"Maybe once." Tyrion commented taking a slug of the wine. "Ooh this is good!" He smirked.

"This is the same man, who when so advised, had stayed in the Queens company, even though he knew others in Westeros would question her integrity because she kept company with a man of so low standing and morals? He is a spy and a slaver!" Barristan sneered.

"Integrity Ser? Do you believe the actions of the small council in Kings Landing showed integrity? Or King Robert himself? He was, as I recall the one who demanded Danerys and her brother put to death.?"

"What has that got to do with anything?" Selmy demanded, trying to understand what Tyrion was trying to say.

"Only that not all men are bad, some are only reacting to circumstance. Do you not think a truly good man can learn from his mistakes."

"So what are saying that Her Grace should pardon him?" Barristan asked incredulously.

"It is not my place to say so, but I ask you this Selmy, why would a man who fled his home country to avoid justice, only to be exiled in another, not return to his home if he could? But rather stay and fight for the Ruler who exiled him, all the while knowing she would have him executed should he step foot into her presence again?"

"And your point?"

"Loyalty? Perhaps blind faith? Love? Desperation?. I do not know Ser Jorah's mind. I can't answer for him." Tyrion lounged on the divan, dangling his goblet over his knee.

"You are wrong. Mormont is a spy, a liar, who is only concerned with his own benefit. He would sell her again given the right price!" Ser Barristan said loudly, his patience with Tyrion was running out.

"Stop it!" Dany shouted. "I have heard enough."

"Apologies your Grace." Selmy apologised. "I will make certain that you hear no more of the traitor." He told her earnestly.

"Was he really a traitor? I begin to wonder." She sniffed.

"Your Grace?" Selmy was shocked by her comment.

"All my life I have been wanting to go home to claim what is mine. I would have done anything and used anyone to do it and it was Jorah who counselled in the wiser course of patience. He was my teacher and my friend." She said sadly.

"And he betrayed you." Selmy pointed out.

"Did he? Did he really? Did he tell Varys anything that he could not have heard through another? I wonder if a man who was so disloyal would have stopped my brother beating me or stopped a poisoner giving me his wine. I blamed him for my son's death but while he spied on me he also protected me. Would man like that have mourned my son with me?"

"You're thinking of pardoning him?" Selmy spat. He tone gave away his feelings on the matter.

"I don't know what I am thinking." She admitted. "Only I need to think."

"My dear Queen may I offer a suggestion?" Tyrion asked.

"You will offer it whether I want it or not!" She smirked at the dwarf. How quickly he had charmed his way into her inner circle! But his counsel and reasoning were proving to be sound and invaluable. His presence made her miss Jorah's wise words even more.

"I don't think you believe he would betray you again." She indicated for him to continue. "So from my view of the matter, given time is of the essence, the only thing you have to decide is whether to take his head in the morning or to take his hand."

"What do you mean? How would cutting off his sword hand prove his loyalty?" She didn't understand, but Tyrion could see that Barristan did.

"The Imp means for you to marry Mormont." Barristan laughed out loud.

Dany stood, mouth open for a moment. "But he is..." She stammered.

"A traitor, an exiled Knight, too old, too low born, too ugly, not that I'm one to talk!" Tyrion offered.

"He is not in love with me!" Dany said incredulously.

"Isn't he?" Barristan laughed, surprisd the others by his outburst.

Dany's heart was pounding. Could it be true? He had told her as much in the throne room the day she exiled him, but she hadn't thought he had meant it that way.

"What should I do? You two are supposed to be my advisers, what do you advise?"

"My Queen, I would not... you cannot..." Barristan looked around frustrated at his inability to put a sensible sentence together. "As you adviser, I would tell you not to pardon him, your Grace, his presence in your company will cause others in Westeros to question your abilities as a ruler to distinguish friend from foe."

"Because she married a man for love?" Tyrion spat.

"But what is your opinion, as one man of another?" Dany pressed, ignoring Tyrion.

Barristan paused, then sighed. "I have spent my life standing outside the door of Kings who have married for convenience and seen their brutality and unhappiness first hand. And I have seen the endless whores that frequent their bed chambers. Political marriages are rarely successful."

"So you would advise marrying for love, but not to Jorah?"

"No. I would advise that you make your own decision. He loves you, any fool can see that, but he is a traitor."

"A traitor! Perhaps once!" Tyrion laughed derisively. "The man could have taken his pardon the first time it was offered but he stayed by her side to protect her."

"The first time?" Barristan asked. Both stared at the little man waiting for him to explain.

"From your telling, his pardon was signed by Robert Baratheon the year our Queen married the Dothraki Khal. Yet the letter you saw was dated nearly two years later, by my beloved father as the Kings Hand, reminding Ser Jorah of his pardon." Tyrion let that sink in for a moment, then continued, "He could have left you and collected his pardon at any time and yet he chose to stay by your side Danerys, even when he did not have to."

"But he had sworn his sword to me." She told him.

"Would a man with so little honour, a traitor and a spy live by that oath if the very thing he had wanted most fell in his lap?" Tyrion knew he had gotten her thinking.

Dany thought for a moment, then turned to Tyrion, raising an eyebrow, but before she could speak he continued.

"I married for love as a young man and my dear father took her from me. Now I have a wife who hates me, though I bear the child no malice. How could I ever tell someone not to marry for love when my own experience bellows otherwise." Tyrion raised his glass to her. "Why don't you speak with the man in question?"

"Thank you for your counsel. I would think on this matter for some time. Please leave me." She turned away from them, trying to sort out her thoughts.

"Don't think too long my Lady, dawn is only a few hours away!" Tyrion suggested as he and Barristan left her chamber.


	4. Chapter 4

Dany's head was whirling. Should she forgive him? Could she? Were Ser Barristan and Tyrion right? Did he really love her? Did she love him?

"Missandei?" Dany called to her hand maid.

"Khaleesi?" Missandei asked as she crossed the room to her.

"Do you think Ser Jorah is a good man?" She asked.

Her handmaiden smiled and nodded.

"The little Lannister thinks I should marry him. What do you think?" Dany asked her, sipping on some wine.

"Ser Jorah loves the Khaleesi." She replied.

"How do you know?" Dany quirked an eyebrow.

"This one can see it in his eyes." She smiled wistfully. It was how she wanted Grey Worm to look at her. "Does the Khaleesi love him also?"

"I do not know." Dany admitted.

"Do you not think him a good man Khaleesi?"

"He told my secrets to the man who killed my father."

"The Khaleesi has missed Ser Jorah." Missandei pointed out.

That was the crux of it, Dany knew. While she had been furious at his betrayal, that anger had turned to sadness. She had missed him. She still expected to hear his voice whenever she was worried, ready with a reassuring word and it she had often found herself unconsciously thinking "I'll ask Jorah..." only to remember she had sent him away.

"That is beside the point." Dany protested. "How I feel about Jorah has nothing to do with it."

"The little man says Ser Jorah is sorry for what he did." Missandei pointed out.

"The Lannisters tongue never stops wagging! I can't understand how Jorah put up with him!"

"Perhaps Ser Jorah thought he could help the Khaleesi?"

"Or drive me mad!"

"Ser Jorah is a nice man, he make a big mistake but he helped the Khaleesi when others would not." Missandei gave her a coy look. "And he is more handsome now, is he not?"

"What do you mean? Now?" Dany gave her a quizzical look.

"This one asked a woman to clean and dress him for the Khaleesi." Missandei admitted. "Were you not pleased?" She smiled.

"I... thank you, for thinking of it." Dany blushed. She did think he was handsome.

"Perhaps the Khaleesi should speak to Ser Jorah."

"Yes, I think I should." Dany decided.


	5. Chapter 5

As she walked through the corridors of the pyramid to where Jorah was being held, Dany's stomach was in knots. She had missed him, but could she ever trust him again? Her head told her it wouldn't be the smart decision to pardon him. He had been her closest friend and he had betrayed her. She had exiled him before because she could not bear the thought of knowing she had ordered his death.

Her thoughts were still a jumble when she reached his door. She sent guards to the end of the hall and after taking a deep breath she stepped inside the chamber. Jorah was sitting on the bed, leaning against the wall. He moved to get up when he saw her.

"No, sit." She told him.

When he was settled again, he cast a worried eye over her.

"Is something bothering you, your Grace?" He asked with a tight smile.

"I have a question for you Jorah and I need a truthful answer." She could feel the tears welling in her eyes. How he answered this question would determine if he had a future.

"Anything." He sat forward eagerly.

"Do you love me Jorah?" She tried to keep her voice even.

"More than my life." He answered, sliding to the edge of the bed.

"So it would appear." She sighed.

He stood and gently gripped her elbows, he had to make understand before it was too late. "I have loved you for longer than I know and I will love you until I go to my grave." He admitted.

"Enough to never leave my side?" Her voice was almost a whisper. She looked up into his face. She wondered how she had never thought him handsome before.

"Aye, if you let me I will serve you for the rest of my life."

"I'm not asking you to serve me Jorah, I am asking if you love me." She explained.

Overcome with emotion, Jorah could only nod.

"Show me then." She whispered, standing on her toes, to reach his lips.

He kissed her then, for a long time. Finally he pulled away from her.

"I love you Danerys, if you would ask this of me, then do not toy with me. Let me be your only love."

It was not something a man should ever demand of a Queen, but Jorah no longer cared for propriety.

"If that is what you wish?" She offered with a smile.

"My Queen." He responded, with a smile that filled her heart.

"Oh Jorah, I have missed you." She told him, smiling fondly up at him.

"And I you." He rested his forehead against hers, holding her close.

She lifted her hand to his face. Smiling as she stroked his smooth jaw.

"Missandei did very well!" She giggled.

"My Queen?" Jorah flushed with embarrassment.

"Missandei sent the woman to make you handsome for me." She giggled.

"A pity she wasted her time then." Jorah pointed out.

"Oh no my Bear, it was no waste. I would have you stay like this." She rubbed her nose against his smooth cheek.

"You would have me clean shaven and show this in all its horror." He asked pointing to the brand, shocked that she would want him by her side with the mark of a slave showing.

"I would have you clean shaven to save the prickle of your beard on my face, Ser. If I am not offended by the mark, what right have others to think it. I think you handsome and it is only my opinion that matters." She told him.

"As you wish." He would do anything to remain by her side.

"There is one more thing." Dany told him. "If you are to remain with me Ser, you will have to do so as my husband. It would be not right for the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms to retain a man simply for her pleasure" She pointed out. "I require a man by my side who has the wits to advise me and please me." She smiled coyly.

"Husband?" Jorah was shocked.

"Jorah, Ser Barristan tells me that I should marry a man that loves me, rather than be unhappy."

"I doubt he would recommend me for that role." Now his heart pounded so hard he felt like it would burst out of his chest.

"He wishes for me to be happy, to be loved."

"I would love you." Jorah admitted. "But you cannot have someone...like me...as your husband." His heart ached to say it.

"I am the Queen, I will marry whom I please." She told him. Jorah could feel the dragon in her words.

"Then I would be honoured." He said dropping to his knee.

"I am glad." She placed a kiss on his forehead. "Do not betray me again, my love, or I will take your head without hesitation."

"Never, I am yours to do with as you will." He promised.

"Very well then." She smiled seductively, stroking his chest as her stood up.

"Danerys." He whispered huskily, making Dany quiver. "It is not proper."

"Was spying on me proper?" She pushed him away a fraction, then smiled. "I did not mean that as it sounded." She apologised seeing the look on his face. "Now come here."

"My Queen I..." He began, but she placed a finger on his lips to silence him.

"Shush. Tomorrow we can find a septon." She whispered and kissed him with all her might.


End file.
